


All Things Caramel and Flirting Customers

by bluebirdling



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Bakery AU, Cafe AU, Flirty Scorpius, M/M, Scorbus, pining albus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebirdling/pseuds/bluebirdling
Summary: Albus is the co-owner of the best bakery—in his entirely humble opinion—and Scorpius a favourite customer with a sweet tooth and mum to please.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	All Things Caramel and Flirting Customers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jacksonnw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonnw/gifts).



> Jackson, you ought to learn something from Scorpius.
> 
> The number of times the word ‘caramel’ is uttered in this fic makes me wince but I literally have no idea what else to write. Bear with me, will you?

Albus looks up from the counter as the bell above chimes, signalling the arrival of a new customer to the bustling bakery—a tall, pale man with a light mocha faux shearling coat hugging his figure perfectly and managing to hide most of the black turtle neck and a mess of dandelion fluff sitting atop his round, rosied face.

Three month have passed by and Scorpius Malfoy somehow manages to get cuter and hotter by the second.

He doesn’t know how long he can last before he spills his biggest secret—his embarrassing and very,  _ very _ gay crush. A smile blooms on his face with the very intention to let the tiniest tibits of the aforementioned secret seep through.

Albus lets it.

Scorpius’ startling grey and soft eyes—though he can hardly see them from this distance, he has the heart-stopping sight ingrained in the back of his mushed up mind—sweep through the winter themed bakery before finally landing on him. A smile overtakes the pink lips to match his, long legs taking even longer strides to reach him and, in his mind, head swooping down to drop the sweetest, faint-worthy kiss.

Instead,  _ much _ to Albus’ disappointment, it cocks to the side to grin at him, once more pulling sharply at his heartstrings.

He ought to go to the doctor soon. This certainly can’t be even remotely healthy.

“Hi.”

_ Why _ is it that even a simple word from his lips is enough to drive him mad?

“Hullo. Same old, same old? Chocolate croissants, fruit scones and a latte?”

A pleased grin spreads wide while he recites his daily order, happiness shining in his eyes, “Remember my order, have you?”

“I do make a point to remember my customer’s order, yes.”

_ Only if the said customer is a platinum blonde and gorgeous _ , he adds in the privacy of his swooning mind.

“Well, today’s rather special. Woman troubles, you see.”

His heart stutters, brain racing to grasp the thought of the boy before him being with  _ anyone  _ else other than  _ him _ , himself. It's positively painful, and he  _ detests  _ the thought.

But there’s a possibility that it  _ could  _ just be something else entirely…

In the three months that Scorpius Malfoy managed to drop by his wondrous, homey cove, approximately three times per week, flaunting his beyond comprehensible and endearing fashion sense and long strides matched with his jaunty attitude and love for fruit scones and croissants. Albus managed to gather whatever information he could, with a little unwelcomed help from his cousin, including the name of his favourite French restaurant just down the street, his cursed—as he claimed it to be—middle name, and the fact that he works for Greengrass Dressers. But never, never _ once _ has he mentioned a girlfriend or boyfriend of any sort.

Scorpius looks at him when he doesn’t respond, resting the crossed forearms on the glass counter, and tips his head back to laugh upon seeing Al’s expression. 

“Christ, Al, I’m single. I just wanted a treat for my royally pissed off mum.”

And, suddenly, he can breathe again. The sincerity in his smile makes a triumphant comeback, warmth encompasses his booming heart, bubbling in all its glory, but the feeling is accompanied with a sense of exasperation. He shouldn’t be _this_ relieved. A blush blooms across his cheeks, telling and burning.

“Whatever did you do to piss her off?”

A shy grin spreads across his features, “Er, I might’ve hounded her on the woes of my non-existent love life. She says she didn’t raise her boy to be such a wimp, and that I ought to get over myself and ask the boy out.”

_ There _ it was. All that damned flirting, all those signs that would surely send him to an early grave. Signs that told him Scorpius just might fancy him. Albus ducked his head to hide the ever growing smile, beckoning at the display, “Well then, take your pick.”

Scorpius eyes flashes downwards for a fraction of a second, before returning back to his face with a keen gleam in those rapturing irises of his.

“Well, you see, despite me coming here every other day, I still haven’t tasted the salted caramel cheesecake mousse--and you know my mum adores anything caramel.”

He does indeed. It's also not the only thing he knows—Scorpius loves his mum something fierce and there’s never been a conversation between them that didn’t include her. He’s never met that woman in his life, but he admires her all the same. Beaming at him, he waves at the empty tables by the windows at the side of the cafe overlooking the early evening bustle, “One salted caramel cheesecake mousse, coming right up.”

A familiar voice cuts through, teasing and sharp, “Oh, by all means, make a dent in your card but you’d have to make one yourself. I’m afraid we’re all out.”

Albus glances at the till, where Rose stands—hands moving deftly as she cashes the money and gives out the receipts, then back at the end of the display. Sure enough, an empty tray sits there sadly, a card placed in front of it. Wincing, he looks up, apologetic. 

Scorpius doesn’t seem to notice his eyes silently pleading ‘ _ sorry’ _ , instead frowning thoughtfully at the till, eyes squinting slightly before snapping to his. A wicked, sly smile takes over. 

Albus double takes the sight, and nearly groans. 

This can’t be good. 

“Well...I do know it to be a fact that Potter here happens to be a stellar baker.”

His brain ignores the compliment better than his heart can, waiting for him to make his point. Rose pauses shuffling through the cash, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why not make one? Let’s do it together.”

The gaze is back on him, eyes stopping his heart and starting it again, over and over—a viscous cycle. 

_ How on earth can he even say no? _

“ _ You _ want to help me make it?”

“I’ll agree, I’m not exactly a prodigy, but there’s always room for improvement.” A wink, enough to send him down to his knees, “And I do need the second hand experience if I ever want to make it on my own.”

“Scorpius, I can’t let you just barge into my—“

“Oh but he will.”

Rose closes the till, dusting her hands and looking at the emptied queue satisfactorily before making for them, “Go in ahead. Al will join you in a few.”

“What the bleeding hell are you  _ doing— _ “

He nods at Rose before winking at him again, “I have my money and a mum to please. You’re not really going to turn a good customer away, are you?”

Albus hisses, gritting his teeth, “For fuck’s sake, I’m not turning you away. Just sit your arse and I’ll get it done in under an hour.”

He leans back, removing his resting arms from the glass display and bringing out his card in a flash, “And if I help you, we can get it done in half the time.”

Al doesn’t know what is worse, the fact that Scorpius is even instituting this idea, or the fact that he’s sorely tempted to entertain the thought. 

He lets out an exasperated sigh, “I, as the co-owner, cannot  _ possibly _ allow—“

Rose snatches the card from the winter-dew like hands, waving him away to the swinging doors of the main workings of the bakery, “And  _ I _ , as a respectable business woman and second co-owner, am  _ not  _ turning away a good customer’s order, Potter.”

He huffs, “Fine. Christ,  _ fine.  _ But only for thirty minutes. If it extends for longer than that, you’re out.”

Scorpius, him being the cheery git he always was, waves happily and disappears into the back.

Rose pokes him hard in the arm, “What the  _ fuck  _ do  _ you _ think  _ you’re _ doing?”

“Being a reasonable man?”

“Resonable, my  _ arse _ . You get to bake a delish and get an even better delish for free and instead turn the chance away, you effing dolt. Did you have some nonsense drink today morning?”

“How can you  _ not  _ see—“

“Just  _ go _ , Al, and get your money’s worth. His bank account can handle the expense.”

Pushing him by the chest and into the heated kitchen, his cousin clears the room—ushering them all out until it’s just the two of them. 

He gets to work right away, grumbling about the large island and gathering the recipe and its contents—but it isn’t long before he’s laughing again at the terrible puns and his heart warms up, clearly gayer than a rainbow. 

But, of course,  _ of course,  _ it isn’t done by thirty minutes. They’ve barely started on the caramel and he’s too busy hacking his lung out at Scorpius’ quip about how he has more patience than the bloody caramel to notice the time that passed. 

Popcorn soon scatters the tabletop as the blond decides to try and pop as much as he can in his mouth in a row. There’s an outraged cry when a drop of caramel stains his coat—though that had been entirely on him—and Albus just shakes his head fondly at him as he places the stained, sugary popcorn delicately on the glasses of mousses. 

The minutes pass by, the kitchen gets warmer, the sky darkens outside, and the bakery empties slowly—but he’s painfully and utterly oblivious to it all. Far too enamoured by the boy dipping caramel covered popcorn in the cream and licking it off than he ought be, and far too much of a coward to do anything about his fancying spiralling out of control. 

The spared minutes inbetween are taken up by stories, hilarious and touching, and he’s lost count of the compliments Scorpius has given him. It’s inflating his ego, and getting his hopes up—but, really, how can he help it when there’s a tad bit flirting mixed, too?

He’s gone and told him about how he dropped from uni to care for his grandmother and upstart this bakery with the help of his cousin—and it’s a story everyone knows, but not from his own lips. Scorpius seems enthralled by the telling, unabashedly praising him and sparking a fire from within and grinning at the blush that it starts. 

He’s stupid. 

He’s pining. 

He’s  _ doomed _ . 

And he certainly doesn’t mind it all that much. There are far worse ways to be driven to an early grave. 

When the delicacies are finished, they stand next to each other, pride puffing their chests as they survey the dessert. Albus turns his head slightly—soughting to catch the look on Scorpius’ face only to find him looking at him instead. He turns away as a scarlet flush creeps up his cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. 

The mousses are packed and ready when Rose barges in, raising a perfectly sculptured eyebrow at them. 

“Well?”

Scorpius’ joyful smile falters, “What?”

“Don’t tell me you just came here for the mousses, Malfoy. Or have you forgotten, you prick?”

“Ah, right.” He glances at him, smile growing more and more suspicious by the moment. “Give me a sec, yeah?”

His head moves to and fro between them, confusion etched in his features, “What is going on?”

Rose disappears as he makes his way around the island to stand directly in front of his customer, whose grin increases. 

“Just thought I’d get to the big reveal now.”

“Big reveal?”

A solemn nod at his direction, smile still plastered to the unfairly adorable face of his, “Big reveal. You see, I realised early on that it would take approximately several years of constant supply of these,” flick of the head at his masterpieces, “and only from the best for her to forget the ultimate demise of my bravery.”

“That’s very flattering, but—“

“ _ So, _ ” he leans on the edge of the island—back facing the cheesecake mousses and arms folded, “I planned on getting her them from the boy I’ve fancied since I came in here the first week—and the same boy I’ve run her to the devil’s seat moaning about. She’d be mighty pleased I did it with a baking themed almost-date, too. Rose helped.”

Albus blinks at him. Once, twice, once more to make sure he’s even real. 

_...from the boy I’ve fancied..same boy I’ve run her to the devil’s seat moaning about...baking themed almost-date. _

“You little  _ dastard _ .”

“Clever, no?”

“Utterly  _ mad— _ “

“Plain brilliancy, you mean.”

He shakes his head, surges of affection sprouting one after another.

“ _ Rose _ was on this?”

“Gave the idea, really.”

“That little  _ minx _ .”

“So it's a date? The french place down the street on Saturday? I’ll pick you at seven?”

He tries to stop his lips from pulling upwards, and miserably fails. 

“Next time, just  _ ask _ , you idiot.”

Albus takes a step closer to him, hand wrapped tightly around the collar of the coat and tugging at it, tilting his head upwards to press a promising kiss to Scorpius’ cheeks. Their triumphant smiles are unmistakable and he’s glad he finally got the nerve. 

“Now,  _ get out. _ I won’t stand for it if I see you before the date.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I can change my mind later, though.”

“But you won’t—“

“You never know—“

They’re still at their flirty banter as night dawns and the bakery closes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at @bluebirdlinginthenest?


End file.
